When Dragons Get Bored
by SilentSpectator101
Summary: The Dovahkiin has fulfilled his destiny and decides to do something for himself for a change. Deciding to follow in his brother Talos' footsteps, follow him as he fights to sit upon the Ruby Throne.
1. Beginning of an Empire I

**_14th of Morning Star 4E 204_**  
 ** _The throat of the world_**

A feeling of incomprehensible pride had filled the Dovahkiin when he had finally killed Alduin the World-Eater in Sovngarde, when he had shot Lord Harkon Volkihar with the bow of his father Akatosh and when he had killed the first dragonborn Miraak in Apocrypha.

Yet all he could think of now was how little he had left to do. All these amazing accomplishments had led to the salvation of Nirn and yet he felt empty. His dragon soul begging for something, he didn't need to guess what it wanted.

Power.

The only thing he ever wanted now, to command fear and respect from mortals and dragons alike. He was their rightful king, their thuri and yet they bow to other mortals. It was pathetic, why bow to something no stronger than yourself? It was such an unfamiliar concept to dragons, who respected only strength in their rulers.  
He sighed and looked up to see many of his brethren atop the throat of the world, the swirling storm above the backdrop for many others flying the skies.

After his victory over Alduin, Paarthurnax had gathered many other dragons to teach them the way of the voice. Currently fifty-two dragons resided at the throat of the world with Paarthurnax including his friend Odahviing. He knew he would bring the other dragons to his side with a shout he learned in Solstheim, all Dovah would bow to their Thuri.

He smiled and made a decision.

Willing or not, Tamriel would bow to him, he would rise to Emperor as his brother Talos had. After all, Talos had brought Tamriel to heel only with men on his side, the Dovahkiin has fifty-two dragons on his side.

First he would have to unite Skyrim, he figured the Nords would be easily brought to his side, the Dragonborn was a legend to them, he saved them from all kinds of menaces clearing out vampires and dragons alike. The current Empire? They would be more difficult, he would need to drive them out of Skyrim and in doing so he would alert them to his plans.

It would be difficult to accomplish his goal, he knew he would need the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild with him, but that was no problem with him being the Listener and Guildmaster respectively. He was also Arch-Mage of the college of Winterhold, meaning he would have their magic on his side.

If he joined the Stormcloaks he would have an army, but it would not be his own, Ulfric would demand to be High King of Skyrim and there was no way in Oblivion that was happening. That throne was his, the previous Empires may have been seated in Cyrodiil but Skyrim would be his seat, he was a Nord in his mortal blood and he would not be giving the Kingship of the land he loved to a man he despised and distrusted.

Perhaps he could join the Stormcloaks and Ulfric could have a little accident, Galmar, Ulfric's right hand would have to go as well if he were to take over the Stormcloak army.

Then he would be Jarl of Windhelm as well and as such would have a place on the moot for the next High King. He would need to gather support from 4 other Jarls and gain the majority vote. He already knew Balgruuf would vote for him, Winterhold and Dawnstar would be easy to persuade, all he needed to promise was to aid their main cities and help rebuild Winterhold which had not recovered from the Great Collapse many years earlier. Then all he would need is one more vote, Laila Law-giver hated him and knew he would have her killed if he took the throne, no vote from her. Jarl Elisif was his competetor and as such would never vote for him.

That left Falkreath, Markarth and Morthal. He believed that Jarl Idgrod of Morthal would be the easiest to sway as Morthal was small and fairly unprotected, but with his help? Morthal would thrive.

There he had it, his plan was made, first he would need to become Ulfric's third in command, when the other two had their, 'accident' he would take over.

He smiled, this would be easy. 

Oh how naive he had been.

It had turned out becoming third in command was difficult, Ulfric didn't trust easily and especially not the Dragonborn after he had refused to lend him aid many times over the course of the past few years. He had simply played it off as him being far too busy saving the world to deal with the matter of the Civil War. Ulfric had begrudgingly accepted this excuse, and slowly but surely the Dragonborn had gained his trust, rising to be a Stormcloak Officer and third in command, he had single handedly taken many forts across Skyrim driving the war in Ulfric's favour, when the people heard of the Dragonborn's involvement in the war more men and women had flocked to join the Stormcloaks believing that the Dragonborn would lead them to victory, and he would, but not Ulfric's victory.

After he had successfully gained Ulfric's trust during the storming of Solitude when only Galmar, Ulfric, Tullius and Rikke were in the room other than himself. The Dragonborn and the others had successfully killed Tullius and Rikke.

It was a short victory for Ulfric and Galmar, as the Dragonborn had decapitated them both with his Daedric greatsword.

The dragonborn had then claimed that Tullius and Rikke had managed to overpower them and kill them before the Dragonborn had rushed in and killed them, his thu'um had shattered the walls of Castle Dour.

The army had no reason to doubt the Dragonborn and he had been proclaimed the new leader of the Stormcloaks.

He had not spared Elisif and had put her to the block, killing her himself and staining his blade with her blood.

Skyrim was his land, not the dirty Imperials. He was King here and they would see that soon enough.

Smiling, he turned away from the burning city. His plan was almost at completion, he had spared the lives of Balgruuf and Idgrod, turning them to his side with the promise of his aid for their cooperation and vote on the moot.

Jarl Korir of Winterhold and Jarl Skald of the Dawnstar had both sworn their loyalty to him on the promise their holds be aided in growing. He had every intention of honouring this deal as he knew Skyrim would need to be easily defensible when the Empire decided to take Skyrim, all the people of the nine holds needed to fit in the holds capitals. So the enlargening of all holds was necessary.

Skyrim was a natural defence, mountains encasing it on all sides barring pale pass to the south into Cyrodiil, great gates would need to be build their and manned heavily ready to keep out the Legions.

It was safe to say much work was left to be done, but it was easily doable with the power he had in his soul.

He could feel his soul thrumming with an insatiable hunger for power, all it wanted was an Empire to rule, to conquer, dragons naturally despised the Altmeri and with his soul he felt a burning unquenchable thirst for their blood.

Hunger for power and thirst for blood? He was beginning to sound like a true dragon.

He chuckled quietly.

This was sure to be an adventure. 

_**1st of Sun's Dawn**_

Solitude, The Blue Palace

After a few weeks of relative peace in Skyrim, the moot had been called to decide upon a new High King. The nine Jarls had all arrived at The Blue Palace in Solitude to have the moot.

After Jarl Elisif's death the Dragonborn believed a man named Falk Firebeard had been named Jarl, Elisif's steward he believed. The man seemed to be every bit as entitled and self righteous as Elisif herself. The Dragonborn decided he disliked this man intensely.

The Jarls sat at a round table in the Palace, all were present and waiting for someone to begin.

After a moment of silence the Dragonborn spoke.

"We all know why we are here, a new High King must be decided upon. I nominate myself for the position." He smiled already knowing how this would play out.

It was Falk who spoke next, a small smile graced his lips.

"I also nominate myself for the position."

"Is there any other who would place themselves as a candidate?" The Dragonborn asked.

They all looked at each other. No one spoke.

"Very well, each Jarl must not place their vote with either myself or Jarl Falk."

One by one the Jarls decided, it began with Jarls Laila, Siddgeir and Igmund siding with Falk, this didn't surprise the Dragonborn, they despised him and would do anything to attempt to hinder his plans. He would need to replace them after the moot was decided.

After Jarls Balgruuf, Idgrod, Skald and Korir all voted for him, 5 - 4 as was expected, the Dragonborn was king.

An expression of extreme distaste graced the face of Jarl Falk and he knew this was not the end of him.

Jarl Balgruuf spoke next, "It seems the Dragonborn shall be the new High King of Skyrim. The Jarls have decided, none may change this vote."

The Jarls who had voted his side smiled and rose to their feet, along with the Dragonborn.

All the Jarls knew it was now customary for them to place their vows of fealty, the other Jarls also rose from their seats before all 8 Jarls took a knee before him. Some more begrudgingly than others. The Dragonborn's soul thrummed with an intense feeling of power. He smiled as they each said their vows and placed their allegiance with him.

Though four would be replaced soon enough. He refused to have insubordination in his own ranks and therefore would only install loyal friends as his Jarls.

Smiling he spoke, "Thank you my Jarls, now I would know the states of affairs in each hold, the Empire knows already the Stormcloaks have won, and it will not be longer than the end of Mid Year before they fall upon us in strength."

Over the rest of the day the Jarls informed him of their current affairs and the issues within their holds. 

**_2nd of Sun's Dawn_**

The Dragonborn woke early the next morning, the woman he had bedded the previous night lying next to him. He couldn't remember her name if he was honest, the dragon inside him needed more than just soldiers, that much he knew.

He got up rubbing his eyes. He felt better than he had ever felt before, his power having reached new heights even to him. The feeling was akin to learning a knew thu'um or absorbing the soul of a dragon that was a particularly nasty pain in the neck.

He had underestimated the amount of work that needed doing though. The highest priority on his list was finding a place to make his seat. He refused to use Solitude and he never liked Windhelm. He had an idea though, it was common among dragons to take the territory of others they defeat. Skuldafn was Alduin's territory and he had defeated him. It only made sense to convert it to a mortal settlement.

He would need to have a set of stairs made as Skuldafn lay on a particularly high part of the mountains to the east. Inapproachable by foot, but once it was built it would easily defensible to any army. As no legion of men or elves could fly and the stairs could easily be blocked off. Creating an impenetrable fortress built deep into a mountain.

He had thought much on defending Skyrim from the Empire and decided that strategic places need to be retaken and rebuild. Skyrim held many forts that had since fallen into ruin. Bandits or other fiends now took refuge in them. He could clear them out and settle there, protecting more of his people. For all he loved power, he did care for Skyrim and mortals, he was born to mortal parents after all. Though they were dead now, they had raised him well and taught him how to use a sword.

He sometimes forgot under the weight of his destiny and power, but he was once a simple farm boy named Bjorn. He should his head to clear his thoughts, his long black hair flying around as he did so.

It was easy to be lost to melancholy, he found it rather pathetic.

He had called another meeting of the Jarls. Deciding to take advantage of all of them being in the same place for once.

He wished to inform them of his plans.

Once they had arrived he explained what he wished to do with Skuldafn, and how many places needed to be rebuild or retaken from whatever laid within. He heard complains from a few Jarls when he demanded that help be sent to Dawnstar and Winterhold for the building that needed work. He also spoke to Balgruuf about taken care of Whiterun's walls which had fallen into disrepair. He decided to fund the building from the Royal treasury. Concessions would need to be made to get Skyrim into proper shape.

He then spoke of Pale Pass and fortifications there, it was Skyrims weak point and needed to be taken care of, it would currently be easy for the Empire's Legions to storm through and retake southern Skyrim. This issue needed to be fixed quickly.

He suggested building a large fort in the gap, allowing access through a set of gates and managing it, this fort would be garrisoned to protect the border from the Empire.

He heard no objections to this as all the Jarls benefit from being protected. As this would also come from the Royal treasury. If he wanted a secure Skyrim he would need to do it himself.

He asked if there were any issues the Jarls themselves wished to speak of, hearing no issues the meeting was adjourned. The Jarls then left back to their holds and the building begun.

This would take time, he could only hope there was enough to get Skyrim into fighting shape. He settled on speaking to the dragons about Skuldafn. They could build the stairs with their shouts. Pushing the rock away and forming a channel.

He sighed, so much to do and so little time.

 **Edited 04/03/17**


	2. A New Dawn II

_1st of Midyear 4E_  
 _Skuldafn_

It had only been three months since Bjorn became High King of Skyrim. But he felt as if he had accomplished much in this short time. Forts had been retaken all over Skyrim, bandits were driven out, all the holds cities were expanded. Winterhold had been rebuilt, Dawnstar had full defensible walls and Whiterun had been repaired.

Yet the most incredible feat was his city.

Once Alduin's home, it was now the capital of Skyrim, it was full of life and trade flooded in from the other holds, he had used his voice and that of his dragons to push aside the rock, creating a staircase to the main city. At the base there was a large set of gates which prevented all access to the city from the ground. If he decided it, the only way to enter the great city was on dragon back.

All the imperial survivors had been killed, and some Jarls had been replaced. Falk, Laila, Siddgeir and Igmund were gone, now replaced with others. Falk had been replaced by a man named Skorygg, Bjorn had been friends with him for a time and had decided to trust in him. He was an intimidating figure standing an inch or two above Bjorn's own height at 6" 4. He had long blonde hair common in nords and wielded a large war-hammer, the head of a wolf was depicted on the skull-crushing part.

Laila was replaced by Mjoll the Lioness, whilst she had originally refused him when asked. He had tempted her with the chance to destroy the thieves guild. Which little did she know he was the head of. Whilst her own goals in that respect did not align with his. The people of Riften liked her, and she would rule well.

Siddgeir was replaced by his nephew Dengeir who was loyal to Skyrim and formerly the Stormcloaks who had been disbanded and inducted into the guards in different holds.

Igmund was replaced by Thongvor Silver-Blood who he had taken a liking too, also a Stormcloak loyalist he had the cities interests at heart. He could be trusted to drive out the Forsworn and restore peace to the Reach.

Lastly was Windhelm, whilst he didn't particularly like the city. He wanted a good Jarl for it as he was Jarl of Skuldafn effectively. He gave his Jarlship to a man named Jorleif, formerly Ulfric's steward he knew the city and was loyal to him.

As a summary Skyrim was safer than ever, the hold guards had been expanded to fill the rising settlements, there was still more work to do though. He had plans to make Ivarstead better. It was at a strategic position. Should a castle of some sort be build against the mountain, it would be difficult to penetrate and could house many Riftmen if it became necessary. The Rift was one of Skyrims largest holds and had a higher population than the others. Riften would struggle to house them all should they need to hide behind walls.

He thoughts were interrupted by a courier walking towards his throne in his palace.

The boy bowed before seemingly becoming stuck for words.

"Is there something you needed?"

"I-I h-have a letter for you, m-my lord."

He said stuttering, he nodded to the guard on his left and he took the letter from the boys hand before passing it to the dragonborn.

He quickly opened it and began reading.

His eyebrows rose before a smile graced his face.

The final mask had been located.

He had sent parties of men into the many ruins dotting Skyrim in search of powerful artifacts. During his travels he had found seven dragon priest masks, yet he had read that were in fact eight within Skyrim.

He needed all eight to activate the pedestals in Labrynthian.

Otar's mask had finally been found meaning he could find whatever was at Labrynthian.

The mask was not all that he had found, he had received many letters from around Skyrim noting anything they found that may be of relative importance. Ancient relics, scrolls, books, staves, swords, and other apparel were common. Enough to arm the six-hundred guards currently on Skuldafn properly.

Whilst the hold capitals had guards, the main armies of Skyrim were kept within military forts he had retaken, these were where the troops trained and lived. Each currently had two-thousand soldiers and there were two for each hold, that totaled at thirty-six thousand soldiers, not counting the defensive troops that would stay in Skyrim, such as the garrison at Pale Pass and the hold Guards. Despite the recent wars Skyrim still had a large army, and nords were known for their strength in combat. Death in battle was not only honoured but also desired by many nords, they lived to enter Shor's hall in Sovngarde to fight and drink with the souls of their dead.

Though only he was lucky enough to have been there. The last battle with Alduin taking place within Sovngarde itself. When he had first inhabited Skuldafn the staff capable of opening the portal had been hidden in an ancient tomb in the mountains. Far away from any who might wish to steal it. He only hoped some reckless adventurer didn't get their hands on it.

He sighed and rubbed his face.

Much work had been done, but he still had to finish rebuilding Helgen and his treasury had taken a large hit already, much was left to be done yet, he knew it wouldn't be long before a Legion or two attempted to cross through Pale Pass. Luckily the defensive gates and garrison had already been set in place. A imperial legion contained five-thousand one-hundred and twenty men divided into ten cohorts. The garrison at Pale Pass housed four thousand soldiers. The defensive advantage would mean they could repel a legion of soldiers and there were two other forts reasonably close by the Pass, meaning an extra four-thousand could reinforce if necessary.

Sadly he knew the Empire had twenty-five legions equaling one-hundred and twenty-eight thousand Imperial soldiers.

The fight had barely begun, but he still had dragons, and they were priceless, their forms striking fear into the hearts of even the hardiest of men.

Yet he knew he would need alliances, he had sent an ambassador to Sentinel in Hammerfell, hoping their previous experiences with the Empire and the Thalmor would lead them to ally with him. From what his spies had told him, their military might was considerable and they would be a great ally in the wars to come.

They were much like High Rock in that Hammerfell was divided into kingdoms. Hammerfell being ruled by a council rather than a singular king. He would also need to cross the border into High Rock at some point in order to capture and subjugate them. High Rock was far too divided to treaty with and he knew they had a large Imperial presence there. Three legions resided there along with whatever forces the individual kingdoms possessed.

If he took High Rock, and Hammerfell joined him, he would be able to invade Cyrodiil from two sides without fear of being attacked from behind from High Rock. Though he believed it would be some time before he moved to take the Imperial city, he needed to cement his presence in the north of Tamriel, perhaps an alliance with Morrowind would be fruitful. It would act as a way to move into Black Marsh and a staging area for an attack at Cheydinhal. It would also mean he didn't have to worry about being attacked from the East, meaning his full concentration and force could be hitting the south and taking Bruma.

There was not much he could do yet but wait for a reply from Hammerfell, with their aid taking High Rock would be far easier and a joint invasion would be best. He knew it meant he would have to bargain and likely concede something to Hammerfell, but such were the risks of war. He needed their aid to speed this invasion, and they were able to fend off the Aldmeri Dominion on their own, their military might was great, and together they could crush many legions before moving on to the Dominion.

They had been underestimated in Skyrim, and with only one legion placed there. But now he had taken the Jagged Crown and the Empire would be fixed and rebuilt in a new and better image. Under the rule of the Dragonborn Emperors once more.

He smiled, his soul humming in delight at the image he painted in his head. Tamriel on its knees at his feet, true power. Perhaps he would even ascend to godhood in the footsteps of his brother Talos.

He sighed, it was a true gift to be a dragon.

 **-LINE BREAK-**

Bjorn had received a letter.

Why is this exciting news? Well that would be because it bore the crest of Hammerfell. This moment would either make or break his campaign.

If Hammerfell joined him they could begin a new Empire in the north by conquering the kingdoms of High Rock. He would also need to speak to the King in Orsinium, they were mighty warriors and had been ill treated in the past. They would join him in return for a true kingdom, perhaps he could give them swathes of mountain land in High Rock? He would need to think on that.

He slowly open the letter, breaking the red wax seal.

A smile broke out on his face as he finished reading. His dream became reality, it seemed after much deliberation on the council of Hammerfells part, they had decided to join him, Hammerfell had been fighting back on its own for a long time. An ally was welcome to them.

They had begun amassing their military might on the border with High Rock.

They planned for Hammerfell to attack away rest and Evermor whilst Skyrim took Jehanna and Farrun. They would then push through what was once Orsinium to Thornhelm and Northpoint before descending into Camlorn and finally taking Daggerfall.

The cities would be subjugated and looted, a few thousand soldiers of the new empire would remain to keep the peace and install a new ruling government.

Bjorn knew that with High Rock looted and subjugated they could feed the troops by using the new farmland and he could refill the Royal Treasury which had begun to get low in Skyrim.

He began to write a reply detailing how he wished this invasion to go before sending it with a courier and a few guards back to Sentinel. He also wrote a letter for the King of Orsinium, he believed his named was Golback the Mighty. He offered the Orcs the mountains where Orsinium used to reside as payment for their might in battle.

He sighed as that too was sent away.

Suddenly a guard knocked on his door rapidly.

"Is there something the matter?" He asked pointedly.

"My lord, word was sent from the garrison at Pale Pass. Three legions are attempting to breach the gates, the Commander asks for reinforcements from Fort Neugrad."

He cursed.

"Have word sent to Fort Neugrad all four-thousand men March to the Pale Pass. The garrison will hold until they arrive."

The guard nodded and left the room quickly.

The Dovahkiin knew he would need to send dragons as well.

Sighing he rose and made way out of what was once Skuldafn Temple and now housed thousands of Skyrims citizens.

Once out he shouted, "OD-AH-VIING"

It wasn't long until he heard a roar followed by rapid wing beats. Odahviing landed within the city.

He tilted his head, "I take it this is not a friendly chat?"

He laughed shaking his head, "Sadly not. I need you to gather four dragons and head to the Pale Pass. The Empire is striking at us, kill them all."

Odahviing nodded before taking to the skies, his large form quickly becoming a faint outline as he set out to do his thuri's bidding.

Pale Pass would not be taken.

But fifteen-thousand was a large number. This would be a large victory were he to kill the three legions.

He sighed again, his attention would be on High Rock for he intended to help take that land personally taking the other thirty-two thousand men he had to the border ready to crush Jehanna and Farrun. High Rocks kingdoms were much like Skyrims holds.

Each had no more than five-thousand men. The Thieves Guild had been placed there in each kingdom to lend information, spurred on by promise of a heavy pocket.

He might be guildmaster, but they were thieves and did nothing without a good reason, aka coin.

High Rocks division would be its downfall, we're all the kingdoms to make a united stand the fight would be far more difficult. There were perhaps forty thousand soldiers in High Rock. Even with Hammerfells help losses would be heavy. But taking five thousand at a time would make this war substantially less draining on his resources.

Another idea he had was the many dwarves ruins scattered across Skyrim. Alftand, Mzinchaleft, Raldbthar and Mzulft being large cities. However Blackreach was by far the most impressive, a golden city within a huge cave system. The Dwemer may have been delirious and greedy, but they knew how to build. The treasures to be found in those cities would make Skyrim very wealthy. Not to mention the cave systems strategic value. Extra cities for future population growth or for defence? All of Skyrims people could fit within those dwarves ruins.

He also needed to find a way to free a dragon held within Blackreach. His name was Volthuryol, the Dwemer had trapped him down there millennia ago and when a norm had been searching for the Elder Scroll in Tower Mzark he had met Volthuryol and he had attacked him. The Dovahkiin had made him see the error in that and had promised to free him should he recognise his authority.

So a deal had been struck and he had yet to find a way to free him. He had considered blasting a hole in the land for him to fly through. But that would leave far too much damage.

He would need to make a tunnel to the surface rather than a huge crater into Blackreach.

Just then a knock on his door echoed once again, this one not so desperate.

"Come in."

A large nord with a bald head and a long beard walked in before bowing.

"What is it?" He asked gruffly.

"My lord, another party has returned with more artefacts and gold from the ruins.

"Thank you, you are dismissed."

He smiled as the man left.

His searching of the ruins are turned out to be rather profitable. His men killing draugr and looting the ruins. These dungeons were being emptied for another reason. Dungeons and dusty ruins were oftentimes hiding places for bandits, cultists and rogue mages.

His men cleared them all out when they entered the dungeons meaning. Skyrim was safer and richer due to these expeditions.

Many interesting secrets and artifacts had been found as well as gold, dragon priest masks being only one of them. Much history had been uncovered. In Skyrim everything had a story and he was determined to find all of them. He found himself spending much time in the library as well as practicing his combat skills or meditating on the thu'um.

His men also reported to him where any word walls were meaning he didn't need to search every ruin for them. He now knew almost every available shout there was. Though with most dragons under his control the amount of knowledge he take from souls was greatly decreased. Hence the meditation he needed to gain the knowledge himself rather than forcibly take it.

Thinking again of his new alliance with Hammerfell he knew this would increase trade greatly. A free trade agreement would need to be agreed upon soon, trade would be good for both provinces economies.

It hadn't taken him long to work out he needed a name for the empire he was creating. It would be the first empire based in Skyrim and he wasn't a Septim. So he needed a new name. Most empires were named after the person who founded them. Septime Empire, Alessian Empire and so on. But Bjorn was an orphan, he had no last name to put to it. Nothing came to him, this matter would need much thought.

Stuck in his thoughts he hadn't realised it was dark, settling on sleeping on it e left the throne room for his chambers.

A new day would bring new challenges.


	3. A Name III

**_1st of Hearthfire_**

 ** _Labryrinthian_**

Bjorn had finally had time to go to Labyrinthian, once a great city, now a city of rubble full of trolls and skeletons.

He had already been inside the main chamber and had killed Morokei for the staff of Magnus. Why a god would need a staff he didn't know. Perhaps the same reason the Daedric Princes had their own artifacts. To play with the lives of mortals, if so, Magnus had been very bored since the fall of the Dragon Order.

His goal this time was different, he had lugged eight, rather heavy, masks up the mountain to put them on the the pedestal. He would finally have the mask of the High Dragon Priest Konahrik. It seemed he would be the only one he didn't have to fight to obtain the mask, perhaps they figured no one would ever get all eight in the same place.

He smiled, he prized himself on doing the impossible.

Once inside the small room, he placed the masks on their respective pedastals and waited.

Nothing happened.

He frowned, all this way and all that work, for nothing.

Looking around he saw a dead body, it didn't surprise him, probably an adventurer killed by a troll.

That is until he saw the wooden mask and the note. Reading the note he found that the mask was allegedly of some magical power. He slowly put it on, and fell the world around him twist and turn until he felt sick, he felt stupid. The mask had probably got some kind of poison enchantment on it to kill the wearer, perhaps this is how the man died.

Then he opened his eyes, they soon widened considerably. The once destroyed room was now back as one would imagine it after it had first been build, not a chip of paint out of place. Yet the most striking thing was the mask in front of him, golden like the others, yet this one had tusks on each cheek. Konahrik.

He smiled, perhaps he wasn't so stupid after all.

He lifted it off the pedestal in the middle and took off the wooden mask. He felt the twisting sensation in his gut and closed his eyes, and was met with the same ruined room as before, the eight masks were still on the pedestals, and Konahrik was in his hands.

He put the mask on and felt an ancient power fill him, he wondered what enchantments this mask had. Most of the others were to do with boosting magicka production rate or capacity. He doubted that the King of Dragon Priests would have such a plain mask though.

He took back the other masks and put them back in the heavy bag. A feeling of immense happiness in his chest.

He knew what to call his new Empire. Labyrinthian's real name was Bromjunaar Gaard or Northern Sanctuary. His empire would be the first seating in the north, so The Bromjunaar Empire fitted, he was a dragon and as such his Empire would have a name in Dovahzul.

 ** _Early Morning_**

 ** _Fort of Pale Pass_**

General Selvigg was not happy.

Three imperial legions sat outside the gates through Pale Pass. That's fifteen-thousand three-hundred and sixty imperial soldiers trying to kill him and the other men of the garrison. Against his four thousand he didn't know how they would survive, he had said word to the High King asking for the reinforcements in Fort Neugrad, but by the time they got here, it was entirely possible the pass would have been taken.

It was simply his job to ensure he took as many of the imperial scum as he could. He was a nord, and nords did not back down. He would win and live, or he would doe and find Sovngarde. Honestly, he didn't mind dying for the cause, he was fighting for his country and for his King, a king he knew he could believe in.

It was the way of the world that blood was spilled before it stopped. Empire's are born on blood and suffering, but when there is an empire there is peace. It was always strange to think that war breeds peace in the end.

He sighed, the Legions had done little since arriving outside the gates. They had at first had a rider declare their intentions to retake the pass, he had shot the man with his bow personally. The Legion had done nothing else, perhaps they had a plan already in motion and they were simply waiting its course.

They knew he would not under any circumstances open the gates, an open battle would do no good now. He needed to wait for reinforcements, if he fought strategically, it might be possible for him to win against the Legions.

His second in command was walking briskly towards him, hand on the pommel of his sword.

"General, the Imperials are moving forward, they have assembled outside the gates. They have made siege towers and a battering ram. " he said solemnly.

He cursed, there would be no waiting.

"Have our archers assemble on top of the wall. Tell them to aim for the men on the battering ram and the siege towers." If men got on the walls or in the fort this would go sideways very quickly.

The man nodded and walked away.

Cursing again the general walked to the walls himself, he would fight on the front line in this battle.

As he made his way to the walls, the twanging of bows and a sound of banging reached his ears, he broke into a run. That was far quicker than he thought.

As he expected, the imperials had set the battering ram to work, the archers were doing a good job of killing the men, but others picked up the slack. There were simply too many of them.

His men on the other side of the gate were pushing it with all their combined might, trying not to let it move too much.

CRACK!

He turned back to the battering ram to see a hole had formed in it.

CRACK!

The gates split.

CRACK!

The gates opened and an imperial legion began to descend upon the men who had formed a shield wall. Swords jabbing through gaps to stab at the imperials.

Many imperials fell, but so did many nords.

ROAR!

Everyone looked to the skies to see a faint outline of a dragon, or four. They were coming right for the pass. Selvigg smiled hoping they were under the High Kings control and were to help the battle.

The Nords, looking alive begun to attack the stunned Imperials, hacking and slashing their swords and axes, taking advantage of the Imperials lack of concentration they were pushed back through the gate.

Only to be burned by dragon fire. The dragons were upon them now, maws open released scorching flames upon the imperial ranks. Their weapons and armour melting under the extreme heat.

Selvigg smiled, perhaps this battle could be one. One Legion down, two more to go.

 ** _Skuldafn Palace_**

The Dragonborn sat on his throne smiling. Orsinium had joined his cause, Evormor and Jehanna had fallen and one of the three legions at Pale Pass had been destroyed by a combined force of four dragons and four thousand nords. Sadly only three thousand of the original garrison remained, but the reinforcements from Fort Neugrad had arrived.

The emissary he had sent to Orsinium had done his duty well and had rallied the orcs. There were four orc strongholds within Skyrim, and their king had asked them to join the fight. The Orcs did not have as many men as the other races, namely due to Orsinium being razed three times and the extreme racism that had been shown to them through the centuries. However he had promised the Wrothgonian and Dragontail mountains to the orcs should they join him and they had snatched his arm off for such a deal.

Bjorn had sent fifteen-thousand men to capture Jehanna and he had not been disappointed, the Kingdom had fallen and his men now were resting ready to march to Farrun. The Redguards had also sacked and subjugated Evermor, meaning the entirety of the Reach was now part of the newly named Bromjunaar Empire. The Orcs had marched to meet The Redguards ready to move onto Wayrest.

Trade was flowing perfectly through the Bromjunaar provinces.

Everything was going perfectly to plan. All that was left was securing Morrowind before he would move onto Cyrodiil. During his quests on Solstheim to kill Miraak, he had become rather close to Councilor Morvayn who represents House Redoran in Raven Rock. He reasoned that with a vote from him he could form an alliance with House Redoran. He had also formed connections, though somewhat limited, with a wizard of House Telvanni.

He would support them in becoming more powerful and help keep House Redoran as the governing house of Morrowind and they would join his growing empire. Using Morrowind he could attack into Black Marsh and into Cyrodiil near Cheydinhal, adding an extra staging area for his invasions.

Yes everything was going well indeed.

Yet he knew he needed to push out through Pale Pass soon and conquer Bruma. Controlling that area would mean he would control the Colovian Highlands, it was a trade rich area and would be a great blow to the Empire if he took them.

He called for his steward he had recently appointed, he had decided he no longer needed to directly see to the affairs of Skyrim, but rather watch over all the provinces he ruled. As such the everyday tasks he would usually do, he had now given to a man named Stirrik whom he had met a few years ago. The man was not a warrior, but he was of a political mind, as such he was perfect for the behind the scenes rolls in running Skyrim.

Once he had arrived he told him to send an emissary to Blacklight. To speak to the council of House Redoran about a lasting alliance. He would talk to House Telvanni another time, they were easily the weaker of the two houses, after the sacking of Port Telvannis they had been left rather weak.

His main opposition would be the Aldmeri Dominion. Their warriors were better prepared than his own and whereas most Nords did not, they had magic. He would most certainly need to recruit Battlemages into his armies ready for war with them. He would do as Nords had done for millennia. He would show Altmer their place beneath him. They had heavily fortified The Summerset Isles, Valenwood and Elsweyr. They had many soldiers, having subjugated the Bosmer and Khajiit they had their armies as well.

No doubt they had heard of his conquests and would begin pushing into Cyrodiil once more, using the division in North and Central Tamriel to their advantage. An attack on both sides would be terrible for Cyrodiil and 'the Empire'. Five legions were cut off from Cyrodiil stuck in High Rock. They were soon be destroyed by his Empire. Morrowind would soon turn and he was pushing for Bruma through the Pale Pass.

Time was of the essence now truly. He needed to rally his forces and push through Cyrodiil, to make sure the elves didn't get a foothold. Emperor Atrebbus Mede needed to die quickly, the empire would be thrust into disarray and he would conquer whilst they were busy arguing.

He needed the brotherhood to take on a contract. He was listener so it wouldn't be a trouble.

He called a dragon and set off for the Dawnstar Sanctuary. He believed Nazir would be perfect for the task at hand.

He had never failed a contract and he doubted he would start now. Once Nazir was on his way, Bjorn would fly to High Rock to speed up the conquering, a few dragons would help. He could cause infinite pain to the Western Provinces his men lay waste to the cities in the east.

He would strike at Bruma within a fortnight and then at Chorrol. He would incite civil war in Morrowind and support House Redoran, then they would siege on Cheydinhal.

He arrived at the sanctuary, the nameless dragon he was riding flew off after he had jumped and rolled next to the door to the sanctuary.

He knocked on the door and was greeted by a question.

A rasping voice asked, "What, is lifes greatest illusion?"

He replied, "Innocence, my brother."

The door creaked open slowly, and he made his way inside. Taking respite from the cold snowy conditions of this hold.

He walked down the stairs until he set his eyes on his fellow assassins. Nazir looked up from the chair he was seated on and smiled at him.

"Listener! It's been a long time brother." Nazir said as he walked up to him with open arms.

"Yes, that it has, I have been rather busy conquering a new empire to pay my respect to the Dread Father. Though sadly I am not hear purely to check in." He said, his smile faltering.

Nazir raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Oh?"

"I have a contract for you, nothing that hasn't been done before, but still."

"Well, what is it?" Nazir seemed to loose his happy-go-lucky facade.

"I need you to kill Emperor Attrebbus Mede. His death would make my life significantly easier."

Nazir's mouth was open. Almost comically so, then he smiled.

"So you finally wanted to share the good stuff? This won't be too hard, though I suspect with the rising tension he will have a rather large guard, still, those pathetic Imperials couldn't hope to stop me."

"So it will be done? Good, I hope you are as good as I remember friend." Bjorn said smiling, he knew he could count on Nazir.

After leaving the Sanctuary, Bjorn decided to deal with Pale Pass immediately, his presence would crush the morale of the two legions still there. They would all perish, and he would have northern Cyrodiil under his control.

He was on the back of the nameless dragon he had used earlier, this one had served him well, perhaps he would give him a name soon enough. Though his original one had been lost at his death. A new name could be given that described him.

Sadly there had been an uprising amongst the dragons he had under his control. Thirty of them, although having felt his power, had chosen to disobey him and blatantly disregard his orders. He had taken their will from them and forced them to fight each other to the death. His power having far more mastery than their own. He then took their souls and learnt many new shouts. In a way he was glad they were gone. He now knew which ones he could trust, and whilst it had been a terrible blow to the already crippled dragonkind. They were immortal, and he was the only dragonborn. If another mortal killed one, he would simply raise it from the dead.

He arrived to find both legions at the gates, his dragons were circling the legions, burning men on the edges, but his own forces were there, so they could not fight at full strength, else they burn their own forces.

When they saw him atop his dragon they flew towards him, three were named, chief being Odahviing, there was also Kruziikrel and Sahrotaar.

Odahviing spoke, "Til los pogaan joor. We have killed many yet they still persist."

"Geh, I see this, burn them at the back. I will fight at the front."

His dragon dived down, and the other four flew to the back of the legions and began to cook them in their armour.

He jumped from the back of his dragon and landed on an imperial soldiers back. Crushing him with his daedric boots. He unsheathed his sword, and began to slash at them. Many fell against his blade. They would not forget this day, that he would make sure of.


	4. A Long Journey Ahead IV

Attrebus Mede II was dead. Bjorn knew Nazir wouldn't fail him and he had brought Cyrodiil to chaos. Several families were fighting over the throne now, and in the chaos he would forge his new empire.

Two days prior to this news House Redoran had joined him. He had sent ten-thousand men to join them in their conquest of Morrowind. They would move around the border and attack at Cheydinhal once House Redoran was secure.

The Orcs and Redguards had taken the cities of Wayrest, Thornhelm and Northpoint. While the nords had taken Farrun. Only two kingdoms of High Rock remained, Camlorn and Daggerfall. He had pulled a large amount of nords out of High Rock. He had put down those who would go against his rule, and he had declared Eastern High Rock to be part of Skyrim. Southern High Rock was now part of Hammerfell, and the Orcs would get the rest to build their kingdom of Orsinium once more, it would classed as a province of Tamriel. In doing this he had secured their loyalty.

He had learnt that you could only truly trust someone if you had something they needed. It was in ones nature to be greedy, and to attempt to take more. To stop this you needed to ensure that you were needed. Vivec knew this and that is why he suspended the meteor above a city, so that if his people stopped loving him it would fall and crush them. Hence securing their loyalty to him. Albeit in a dramatic and cruel way.

He stood in front of a table with a full map of Tamriel on it. He smiled, he had always wanted a command tent with a map. He had pale blue markers on the cities he owned, Green ones for Aldmeri Territory and Red for the, whilst crumbling, empire.

Blue markers covered the north of Tamriel curving round slightly in Hammerfell. Yet there were more Green markers, the Dominion had pushed and taken Leyawiin again. It seemed history did repeat itself, Leyawiin had been the first city taken by the Dominion in the first great war, and the first in the second it seemed.

He knew it wouldn't be long until Bravil fell also. He nodded at a general, whose name was Renik.

"Renik, you will take twenty-thousand of our troops and attack Bruma, we must push south, the North is as secure as it will get for now."

There were several nods from other generals and General Renik bowed his head and left.

Once he had secured Bruma, Cheydinhal and Chorrol he could move onto capturing the Imperial city. His spies had told him that within lay ten legions. That was half of the Imperial army and roughly Fifty-thousand men. The other legions were scattered about the other cities. He believed there was only one legion in Bruma, he would punish that mistake. Two legion had been crush at Leyawiin and another two would be in Bravil. Therefore the rest of the cities Kvatch, Skingrad, Anvil, Cheydinhal and Chorrol would only have one in each.

Easy pickings.

Two weeks after General Renik had left with his men, he received a letter from him giving work the city had fallen.

Another blue marker on the map.

He wrote back telling him to leave a garrison of four thousand and to move on to Chorrol.

The combined forces of the Orcs and Redguards had finished off Camlorn and were currently laying siege to Daggerfall. All Bretons that stood against him had been killed. There were no more than twelve-thousand Bretons left in High Rock. Children had been spared, but only men and women that surrendered had lived. The men being inducted into the ranks of his army.

He smiled. He was in a very good position. He now owned the entirety of Northern Tamriel. It had been a brutal fight. Yet the rewards were huge. Half of Tamriel was united under his banner.

The Aldmeri Dominion was still a prominent threat, and he would need a united army to destroy the legions in the Imperial City. Fifty-thousand was no small number, perhaps it would be best if he waiting for the Dominion to seize it. It would destroy the Empire, and weaken the Dominion at the same time, then he could come in from the north and destroy the weakened Aldmeri army.

It was certainly worth thinking about, but if they came in large enough a force they could properly defend the city. So he would need to join the fight immediately at the end of the battle. The timing would take lots of work and he would need to remain hidden. He had no spies within the Thalmor, every attempt he had made had been blocked, they were very thorough and would not let a stranger get anywhere close to them. That made it difficult to discover their military might, though he estimated that with the combined forces of Elsweyr, Valenwood and the Summerset Isles that they had roughly one-hundred-thousand soldiers, it was exactly that, an estimate.

He sighed, his work was far from done.

He would need to speak to House Telvanni soon, and create the alliance between them and House Redoran. He wasn't sure how this civil war would turn out in Morrowind, but he was sure there would be less houses.

He would rest now and join General Renik ready for his invasion at Chorrol. Chorrol was close to the Imperial City and he couldn't be sure a few legions wouldn't reinforce them.

He walked out of his command tent, his planning was done for now.

 ** _A year later_**

It had been a year since Bruma had fallen, in that time much had occurred. Namely was Morrowind becoming united under the banners of Houses Redoran and Telvann, the others houses had crumbled. Shortly after this the combined forces of the nords he had sent to aid House Redoran and fifteen-thousand Dunmer, Cheydinhal fell after a three month siege.

The Aldmeri had taken Bravil and Anvil. Meaning Cyrodiil was divided between the Aldmeri Dominion, the Bromjunaar Empire and the Old Empire. It seemed Cyrodiil would be the main battleground for the war. The Dunmer had begun to push into Blackmarsh, Thorn and Stormhold had fallen and were now part of the Bromjunaar Reform.

Bjorn himself had joined the fighting at Chorrol and the city had flown the white flag to signal their surrender. Their forces had been inducted into his own and the city had been heavily fortified. It was close to the Imperial city and it would be where further attacks were staged. Bjorn knew he couldn't push south until the centre city of Tamriel was his. If he moved south he risked an attack from behind which would cripple his forces. Whilst cornered the Old Empire was still a force to be reckoned with, and he needed to secure the lands he had currently before poking the bear.

Skingrad and Kvatch had held fast against the Dominion so far, but the cities were crumbling without support, the Imperial city had abandoned them it seemed, the Empire knew its days were numbered. Defending those cities would spread its forces thinly.

The Bromjunaar Empire had seventy thousand soldiers, yet the Dominion topped that with one hundred thousand. They would have to fight smartly to beat them, and whilst only twenty thousand Dominion soldiers were in cyrodiil. The border was close to the southern cities and he would need to plan much to capture them and hold against enemy reinforcements.

It was a shame, he thought, that the Old Empire's men were wasted, with those legions they could defeat the Aldmeri far easier. As it stood he would use them as a distraction to destroy a large section of Aldmeri forces. Capturing all of Cyrodiil in the process.

He knew they would attack the Imperial city soon. They could sail up the river to the city from their hold at Bravil, bypassing any need to capture Skingrad and Kvatch.

Yet it would leave them open, should those forces they sent be defeated at the city. He suspected a number of forty-thousand Dominion troops. He would have time to push south before they could move more soldiers to fill the space.

Once the Dumner subjugated Blackmarsh he would have the right side of Tamriel safe, no enemies to attack from behind. During the confusion he could perhaps take a foothold in Elsweyr and Valenwood.

Arenthia and Riverhold were right on the border. Taking them would secure the Nibenay Valley.

The Dominion would be moving most of the soldiers from those cities to attack the Imperial city. Once they were crushed from his ambush, the Old Empire would be gone and the Dominion ready for the taking.

Once Elsweyr and Valenwood were secure the Summerset Isles themselves would have lost the majority of their forces and would be easy to take. The Empire had made the mistake of allowing the Isles their freedom before, but under his rule there would not be a Fourth Aldmeri Dominion. The Third would be lost to history and with it altmeri independence.

Bjorn was far from hating all elves. In fact he called some his friends and the majority of regular citisens were fine. It was the ruling faction, the thalmor, that he despised with all his being. They believed that Altmer were gods, and whilst there is some truth to them being the decendants of Old Ehlnofey they had lost that blood long ago. They were as mortal as any other race. Only dragons could claim to be gods, for they were true immortals, undying unless killed by another dragon.

He smile faltered at the thought of dragons, there had been more infighting and another seven were lost. This left only twelve including Odahviing and Paarthurnax. One of which he knew would not fight.

He had worked on a new shout a month or two earlier. Combining words he knew to create one that heals and rejuvenates. Paarthurnax had looked rather worse for ware and he had healed his chipped scales and tattered wings. He now looked as he did in his prime, unhindered by age, yet he still would not fight and it was not something Bjorn would ask of his mentor. He knew the fight dragons fought with themselves better than any other mortal. The constand wish for power, it was no wonder dragonborn always ended up with it, an insatiable hunger for more only filled by death and domination.

He opened a letter that had been sitting on his desk.

Daggerfall had been crushed and the Orcs had taken their land, many orcs had flocked to the new Orsinium, far superior to any previous version. This Orsinium was of provincial status. All the mountainous regions west of Skyrim's new border in the reach were theirs.

Maintaining happiness in an empire was necessary unless one was going to destroy them. Keeping the orcs happy and on his side was easy. The cities of Farrun and Jehanna were now part of Skyrim and the border dispute over the reach was over. He owned it all.

The two new cities had been filled with settlers from all over his empire. Jarls had been appointed, a woman named Yala was now Jarl of Farrun, and a huge man named Borik, the twin of his general Renik, was now Jarl of Jehanna. These cities had plentiful farmland which was now being used to help feed his armies.

Overall his empire was fairly stable. Within his borders there was peace, crime had fallen drastically, there were no more dragon attacks and vampires had been exterminated. Ruins all over northern tamriel had been explored, looted, all threats dealt with and his treasury was busting.

He had begun to bring order to the chaos that was present in Tamriel, it seemed that was what all dragonborn did, founding empires to last centuries and fighting oppression.

 ** _Outside Skuldafn Throne Room_**

Verik was scared.

He had been summoned by the Emperor. He was just a mage gifted in enchantment and alteration magic, his worth was negligible. Certainly not the company of kings and emperors.

What could he offer the Dragonborn of legend and slayer of Alduin World-Eater.

He walked up the steep steps leading to the throne room, his eyes set on the huge stone doors engraved with pictures of dragons. The depictions were incredible, they seemed to almost move.

The guards at the doors pushed them open and nodded at him. He didn't know if that meant 'you are dead' or 'don't worry you will be fine'.

His gaze fell on the figure sat in the throne at the end of the room. He was regal looking, dark black hair and almost yellow eyes, with slitted pupils looking eerily like those of a wolf, and Verik was his prey.

Breathing deeply he spoke, "You called for me, my lord?" Somehow managing not to stutter.

"Yes, I hear you are quite the capable enchanter? Is that correct?" The Dragonborns voice boomed. He had heard that the voice of a Dragonborn was much like the greybeards. Able to shatter the land with but a word, whilst his voice didn't shatter the land, it certainly incited fear.

"Y-yes, my lord. I am one of the best at the college."

"Good, I need you to do something for me." He snapped his fingers and two guards brought a sack forwards, he could hear the metal clinking inside.

The Emperor nodded at Verik, and he opened the sack, inside was a pile of- masks? He frowned, they were gold and broad chinned, with lines and indentations in the metal. He could practically feel the power rolling off of them, it was ancient and had a certain touch of evil to it.

"I need you to disenchant these and place the enchantments on some armour. These masks are the masks I have recovered from twelve dragon priests, their power is great and very ancient. Should you do this for me, there will be vast rewards for you." He said with a small twitch of his lips.

"O-of course my lord, but I fear these masks are far too ancient for disenchanting. The magic has bonded with the very metal, it cannot be separated." He said fearful of what reaction he would get.

"Bonded with the metal? Could they be melted down and leave the magic intact?" The Emperor said frowning.

"I believe so, yes. But it would take considerable skill, and this metal is a kind I have never seen before. They seem to all have different main components which could mean they wouldn't bind together well, but perhaps it can be refined until it is purely metal. This will not dilute the magic however, as it is tied mainly to the actual metal of the mask."

The Emperor nodded, "I will get together two of the best blacksmiths I know. You will watch them melt it down and forge the armour. To ensure the magic is kept pure."

Verik nodded, hoping he didn't fail.

The Emperor had indeed gathered two blacksmiths, one Gray-Mane and one Avenicci.

The Masks had been placed into a smelter or whatever the big hot machine was that melted things. He was incredibly nervous, they said they could get the impurities out of masks fairly easily, but it was his job to ensure everything went fine.

It wasn't long before the two were pouring the liquid metal into casts to form the armour plates. He noticed they weren't making a helmet. He asked about this and their was in fact a thirteenth mask the Emperor wore to battle and the Jagged Crown on top of it.

The liquid metal was free of impurities and the magic had stayed in tact. They only needed to wait for it to cool, so the Emperor could try it on.

Bjorn was happy, he finally had a set of armour that was befitting of him, originally he planned on giving the masks to his generals but decided to instead forge them into armour. The enchantments on the masks were incredibly powerful, and now his armour had many benefits, he was immune to poisons and diseases, his archery was far better, along with his sneaking and lockpicking, and his magicka and regeneration rate had been boosted. Perhaps he wouldn't be as completely inept at magic as he had originally been.

He had always been annoyed that he couldn't wear all the masks at the same time, well now he could. This should prevent the Aldmeri Dominions magic causing him any trouble.

He had heard news three days ago that the Dominion had captured Skingrad and Kvatch after a short siege. He was sure they would march on the Imperial city soon. He was unsure whether he should reinforce the city and aid what was left of the Legions.

Under the threat of dead they might join him, fifty-thousand elves on their doorstep would likely alter the decisions of many, add the fact the legions were currently leaderless and it was just a terrible situation.

He hadn't made any more progress south in the last few weeks. He had pushed far south and now he was simply moving his armies closer to the Imperial City until he made up his mind whether he would destroy or aid the rest of the Legions. The extra men he could gain would be tremendous help, yet they may not let him in at all, and he would be stuck between two enemies.

He could send a message to General Cassius who was acting head of their military forces, in fact that was a good idea. They would join him in return for salvation and promise of life. If he left them to be crushed by the Dominion he could then come in and quickly take the tired force of elves by surprise and kill them anyway. He simply wished to resolve this fight more peacefully.

He sighed, he had come so far, and yet still had so far to go. Many cities had yet to be broken and conquered and he hadn't even taken Cyrodiil yet. The Dunmer had successfully taken Helstrom in Blackmarsh. It would not be long before the rest of the province fell.

He had much to do.


	5. Boom V

A week had passed since Bjorn had sent a messenger to the Imperial City and the trapped legions within and he had finally received a reply, in the form of the messengers severed head in his horses saddlebag.

Bjorn was seething with rage at the insult, that one would deny him- _him, the son of Akatosh himself!-_ and reject his offer with the mutilated corpse of one of his soldiers was outrageous. He would show them the true might of The Dragon of the North, they would burn.

He turned from his desk, of which every inch was covered in maps and reports from his generals. He had begun planning the siege of the Imperial City, and it would not be free of blood.

The day previous a scholar by the name of Sven had come to him with knowledge of a possible way to destroy the city. He had explained that sewers ran underneath the city, and were accessible by two points outside of the city. Under the cover of night small longboats would be able to reach these entryways and a few men would be able to make their way within the great city. If this was done right those men could open the gates and allow his armies entry. Yet Bjorn did not want to enter the city, he wanted to destroy it. The sewers ran under the entire city, Bjorn planned to place barrels of gunpowder underneath the city and kill the entirety of the Imperial army in one move.

General Cassius had made the Dovahkiin look a fool. He would ensure he regretted it.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Henrik was scared.

He and his men had been given a momentous tast. What might that task be you ask? Well my friend, the dragonborn had decided that instead of sieging the Imperial City like a regular man would. He wanted to blow it up, when Henrik and his section had been called for, he had assumed it to be some other menial task like the others he was given, and when asked if he was willing to give his life for his Emperor it had been his honour to reply to his liege with a resounding positive. If only he had known where that would get him.

He grunted as the muscles in his shoulders twinged, the barrel he was carrying having shifted on his back. After night had fallen he had set off with his men in six longboats, each packed with gunpowder barrels. His orders were to lay each of the barrels under the center of the city, one of the barrels had a long fuse out of the top. After it was lit he and his men would have five minutes to get out of the tunnel and back onto their boats. If they were too slow however...well I'm sure you can understand his fear.

"Thurek, this is good enough. Place the barrels here, make sure they're nice and close to each other." He whispered to his second in command, near silence being important as this was, by essence, a mission of great stealth. One false move and the imperials would be alerted to their presence.

His long time friend nodded and passed the command to the others. It wasn't long until all the barrels were placed in a pile in the stinking sewer. Looking to his men he gave them a shallow nod which they returned before jogging towards the boats.

It had been previously agreed only one man was needed to light the fuse, and as their leader Henrik knew it had to be him. He waited a minute until he was sure his men were far enough away they would get out on time, and then he began to spark his flint on the fuse. Continuing until he saw the fuse ignite. He turned and prepared to sprint before his gut wrenched as he heard a shout.

"Noise over here! Quickly!"

Henrik took a steadying breath, calming his mind he unsheathed his sword and turned in time to see a section of Imperial men splashing through the shallow sewer water towards him.

He gave a great war cry befitting of his ancestry and splashed towards them, slashing his sword at the first mans unprotected belly as he had raised his sword in a downward strike, before twirling and bringing his shield down on another mans head. Cries of alarm went up behind them and more men soon ran forward to meet him, taking their comrades places.

Henrik fought like a true nord that night, but as he fell to the ground bleeding, he found that he wasn't scared anymore. He would find peace in Sovngarde. He had died, it was true, but he had died for his people and his Emperor. He found peace for a moment, and smiled. Then he heard the explosions.

* * *

Bjorn smiled as he heard the explosions, he knew Henrik and his men were competent and that they would get the job done. A group of good strong nords, he was proud to have them in his army.

The Imperial City had fallen, quite literally, into the lake it was surrounded by. Thus ending one of his problems, yet the Aldmeri Dominion was marching his way from their outposts at Skingrad and Kvatch and would soon be upon him. He had ordered trenches to be dug in front of the battlefield he planned to draw them to. Ensuring that their cavalry would be met by spiked pits. The battle soon to come would be a harsh one, the first real battle of this war, the Empire had been a warm up compared to the might of the elves he would be met with, his scouts made their number at some forty thousand, three thousand of which were heavily armoured cataphracts and another three thousand were mages.

His own forces numbered at only twenty five thousand, the dunmer were busy fighting the Argonians in Blackmarsh, having taken over half the province the remaining Argonians had proved themselves a worthy opponent. The Redguards were marching to meet him but would not arrive until the day after he was likely to fight the large Aldmeri force.

Luckily he still had his dragons, camped with him were six powerful dragons including his old friend Odahviing, he knew the great red dragon lusted for blood and in the coming battles he would have plenty of chances to test his thu'um.

There was another issue on his mind at the moment though, his steadfast ally the High King of Hammerfell, Baurus had proposed Bjorn marry his daughter Eletta, to seal their alliance. Whilst Nords did not abide by arranged marriages, he knew it was commonplace in other provinces and amongst royalty, of which he now belonged, for such to happen.

By all accounts the redguard princess was a great beauty and Bjorn would need to take a wife eventually, he had decided to take the offer, granting the princess herself wasn't opposed to the idea.

* * *

It wasn't until three days after his scouts came back to camp warning him of the approaching Aldmeri army. At once he ordered his cataphracts to form up on the top of a hill, the position would give their initial charge the benefit of suprise and momentum allowing them to do more damage to the elves. Meanwhile the main ranks of his army were forming up behind the pits that had been dug and covered with woven branches and concealed with dirt.

He smiled at the thought of the Thalmor cavalry charging right into the trap. Despite being outnumbered he was confident in this victory.

The dragonborn stretched his arms out and two servants began to strap on his armour made from the melted down masks of ancient dragon priests. He took a deep breathe and felt as if he could _feel_ the magic contained within spread to his limbs, the dragon magic within reverberating within his soul, feeding his power.

After the armour was fixed in place he picked up his enchanted flaming dragonborn greatsword, aptly named Dovahyol, translating to Dragonfire. The blade had taken many lives, and today more would join them.

He left his tent and looked to the skies, seeing his dragons roaring in anger, or was it anticipation of a great battle to come? It didn't matter, he jumped on his great warhorse Shadowmere and rode towards the lines, they parted to let him through and he was soon in front of his vast army. He turned to face them, hearing the beating of elven drumbeats echoing in the valley that was to become a battlefield.

All his men were now formed up, he could see his cataphracts just over the rise of a hill, hidden from the sight of the enemy, perfect. They wouldn't see the charge coming until it was upon them.

He would be leading his vanguard, three thousand men who would charge head on at the enemy, the main infantry behind would then push their progress. The brave men around him were all battle hardened veterans, men he could count on to fight until their last breathes.

The elves were close now, he could almost smell their superiority complex from across the thousand yards or so that seperated them. He drew his sword and heard the _shink_ as the men around him did the same. They knew their orders, once the elven cavalry had fallen against the pits they were to charge behind him to take the shocked soldiers by surprise.

Thats when he heard it, the clatter and dull booming of three thousand cavalry charging towards him. He watched with a sick fascination as they drew closer...before the screams of dying horses filled the air as they fell onto the spikes in the pits. With one last look at his men, he let out a wordless roar and kicked Shadowmere into a gallop, his vanguard doing the same as they charged towards the pits, once they had been deep, now were filled with the bodies of dead elves, allowing the men to gallop over them and into the confused elven infantry. They didn't even have a chance to form a shield wall or draw spears before Bjorn was upon them, hacking and slashing with his sword. Using the two-handed greatsword as if it were a lighter one-handed, a normal man wouldn't be able to hold it with one hand, but Bjorn had the blood of the dragon and he was stronger than a normal man.

He could vaguely hear the sound of his dragons thu'um echoing in the valley through the haze which was his bloodlust.

Bjorn took a deep breath before shouting the words of a powerful shout.

" _ **STRUN-BAH-QO!"**_

He roared the words of the Call Storm shout, clouds began to gather above blocking the sunlight and lightning could be seen flashing, soon large bolts of lightning began dropping from the sky scattering elven soldiers. It was then that his hidden cataphracts charged, their bodies emerging over the top of the wooded hill. The elves turned towards the new pounding of hooves, the battle had only just begun and they had already lost a large amount of soldiers, the dragons blasting them with fire and ice, and lightning still blowing them apart.

Bjorn's vanguard had done well, the infantry from behind began to pull up behind them, filling the gaps dead horses left and war cries could be heard all around the battle.

Bjorn smiled, the Aldmeri were nothing to be feared, and their power came from fear.

* * *

The battle had been won, it had been bloody, but of the original twenty five thousand Bromjunaarian soldiers that had fought, close enough to fifteen thousand still remained, whereas the full forty thousand of the Aldmeri had been defeated.

His men were now looting the corpses, weapons and armour could be taken from them and melted down into new equipment for his own soldiers.

He had also received new word from the King Baurus in regards to marrying his daughter. Preparations had been made, and his wedding would be taking place in Chorrol, within friendly lines and also the middle ground between his current position and that of the Princess'. Divines willing he would be able to free himself of the frontlines for long enough to get to Chorrol for his wedding.

His plans were moving faster than he had anticipated, the Imperial City had fallen, and he had defeated the Aldmeri in open combat.

Anvil was currently under siege by the Dominion and he hoped he would be able to push the progress he had made to take the rest of Cyrodiil from the Dominion. Leyawiin would be the most difficult, but he hoped the Dunmeri in Black Marsh would be able to take that city.

Not bad for the son of a farmer, eh?


End file.
